


Sextuple Agent (What did Arthur do in a past life to deserve this?)

by Bookshelf



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cobb's just a cameo really (so far...), Crack?, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Poor Arthur, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:50:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8780305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookshelf/pseuds/Bookshelf
Summary: Arthur was tired.Arthur was pissed.Arthur was tired and pissed and just so done.Arthur [redacted] is undercover...for six different agencies. His current agency D.R.E.A.M.S.H.A.R.E. wants him to go undercover (yes, again), this time with a partner. How is Arthur supposed to keep track of six, now seven, cover identities and his new partner?Spoiler Warning: He can't.





	1. A Brief History Of Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. It's also the last week of the semester so I have no idea what I'm doing writing this.

Arthur **[redacted]** , 28, currently undercover for **[redacted]**. Training in **[redacted]**. Specialties in  **[redacted]**. 

Current Assignment: **[redacted]**

Cover Identity: Arthur McCarthy, 23, proficiency in **[redacted]** , placed in the **[redacted]** division of **[redacted]**. Investigating claims of improper use of department agents.  

 

Arthur McCarthy, 23, covert ops division of **[redacted]**. 

Current Assignment: U.S. Marshall Service. Investigating claims of **[redacted]** against Sue Salby, member of the service for 14 years. 

Cover Identity: Arthur Davidson, U.S. Marshall for less than six months, trainee under Salby. 

Mission Report: Found out Salby was working with one Oliver March, a drug runner that held territory up and down the eastern seaboard. **[redacted]** suggested the Marshall's keep Arthur under with March until enough evidence was uncovered for a conviction. 

 

Arthur Davidson, 28, undercover for **[redacted]** and the U.S. Marshall Service. 

Current Assignment: Oliver March

Cover Identity: Arthur Smithson Jr., 26, started out as a body guard watching over shipments, moved up to enforcer, handling the pay offs. Moved up to current position, enforcer type 2, getting dirt on people that have dirt on March. 

 

Arthur Smithson Jr., enforcer for Oliver March. 

Mission Report: After a close call with some lost CIA agents whom March mistook for Interpol, March had Smithson Jr. find out what Interpol knows about his organization. Smithson Jr. went undercover as a low-level analyst and was told to keep an eye out for anything related to March's dealings. As it was previously unknown that March had any international business, Smithson Jr. was encouraged to take this position, but told to drag his feet. His cover identity was verified with Interpol through **[redacted]** and the U.S. Marshall Service.   

Cover Identity: Arthur Merryweather, 26, data analyst for Interpol's Data Analysis Team. 

 

Arthur Merryweather, 26, Interpol, taken off the Data Analysis Team for an undercover assignment after recommendation from his direct supervisor. 

Current Assignment: D.R.E.A.M.S.H.A.R.E.

Cover Identity: Arthur Collins, 26, one of the younger agents in D.R.E.A.M.S.H.A.R.E.'s Data Mining and Research Division. 

Progress: Nothing so far. 

 


	2. Arthur Has A Bad Day, But Then Finds Some Cool Chairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided all my chapter titles are gonna sound like Fall out Boy song titles. As all good chapter titles do. [Edit: ignore this I've discovered that I have exactly 0% creativity when it comes to chapter titles]  
> Possible warning for Suicidal Thoughts. Arthur has a dark sense of humor and is listless.

Arthur sighed into his coffee, going over his cover identities, amusing himself by thinking of the poor agent that would have to review his file when he died. Maybe he's be used as a teaching tool in the future, "Just remember, if you get this far under, you're too under, you should just shoot yourself before someone else gets around to it." Arthur swallowed a laugh, laughing by yourself was not a normal thing. Arthur Collins was exceedingly normal, unmarried, boring job, no kids, no friends, no life. Perfect. 

"Collins, can I see you in my office for a minute?" Deep Breath. It was probably nothing, the copier broke, you're the only one who can fix it, Sharon's kid is sick and you need to cover her shift. Arthur tried very hard not to think of the last time he had been called into a superior's office like that. Nervousness, short yet hopeful tone, concerned eyes. Don't wanna hurt the precious analyst. 

There were other people in the office. One standing by the window, did not glace up when the door opened, stance casual. One behind Mark's desk, calm, stern face, no left ear. Charles Clairmont, director of DREAMSHARE. Shitfuck. Not the copier, then. Mark spoke up, "Um...Collins you know Mr. Clairmon-"

"Yes, hello sir, honor to meet you." Arthur said abruptly, taking his seat quickly after shaking Clairmont's hand. The slight interruption had its desired effect, Mark pursed his lips and sat down next to Arthur. Sorry Mark. The guy by the window seemed to notice what Arthur had done. Arthur ignored his gaze. 

Clairmont started to speak, "Our undercover division had a-ah-mishap last week, leaving us short an agent. Given the nature of the assignment we felt that someone from this department would be useful," FuckFuckFuckFuck, "-and Mr. Jones here recommended you Mr. Collins." Clairmont looked like he doubted Mark's recommendation. Arthur wondered why he still considered it. Maybe he was cursed. 

"You want me to go undercover?" A bit too much disbelief there, Arthur. 

"The information we'll be looking for is particularly sensitive, stored in a Mach-18 Nanotech Server. Encrypted, buried with thousands of other files. The exact details are in this file, should you accept the assignment."

 _Should he accept?_ Arthur wondered. Please let Cobb say no. "Is it dangerous? I haven't had much field experience, sir." The guy by the window scoffed. Arthur kept ignoring him. Clairmont sighed. 

"I'm aware Mr. Collins, but this is a low-risk mission, nothing to worry about. And should anything unexpected happen, Mr. Eames will be on assignment with you. He's one of our best." Great. 

"I'll need to think about it." Arthur said. 

"You have till tomorrow. Report to Ms. Petit's office, #7 on floor four at 8 a.m. with your answer."

* * *

After pouring himself an over-large finger of scotch, Arthur called his handler. Well, Merrywether's handler. He was first, at least.

"Cobb."

"There's been a development."

"Hello to you too Arthur, wait-you've found out what they do?" If only.

"No, Cobb, they want me to go undercover."

"What for?" Cobb seemed amused. He was pretty much the only person at Interpol Arthur could stand. Arthur also occasionally got the urge to strangle him. This was one of those times. 

"So far all I know is that I'm supposed to get some info from a Mach-18. Delicate apparently. Mark fucking recommended me."

There was silence for a moment, in place of a 'stop being so good at your fake job' quip. Arthur knew that Cobb was remembering how Arthur got this assignment in the first place. He probably felt guilty 'on-behalf-of-the-agency'. Good. "Is it dangerous?"

"Apparently not, but they're giving me a partner," Not obviously spec. ops, though he definitely had training. But Arthur Merryweather wouldn't know that, "name of Eames."

"Mmm. We'll have some people look into it, When do you have till?"

"8 a.m."

"Okay, we'll have a decision by six. And Arthur?"

"Yes, Cobb?"

"Hang in there, I know that being a double agen-" Arthur hung up. Time to call March, and then the rest. But first he had to unearth all those emergency burners. 

* * *

 

**Six o'five a.m.**

Damn it. Approval from all handlers. Well, except March, but he didn't count, he was never happy about anything. Arthur had been able to convince him that knowing what DREAMSHARE was up to would help him too. That was every other agencies' reasoning for sending Arthur under. Arthur cursed DREAMSHARE for being so shady. 

* * *

 

**8 a.m.**

Petit's office was difficult to spot, one door in a sea of doorways, all painted the same chestnut brown. Arriving at #7, inexplicably located at the end of the hall, which made no sense what in the- Arthur paused to see if he could hear anything from the other side. Nothing. Arthur took a deep breath-

Arthur Collins, 26, unassuming, lives alone, unmarried, no kids, no friends, no life, moved here three months ago from Copenhagen where he'd been working for an insurance company-

and stepped inside the office. The office itself looked nothing like the hallway had suggested. Sure, it's bone's did, ugly off-white paint, tacky chestnut baseboard that was 8-inches too tall, puke inducing carpet, but whoever had decorated it was clearly a miracle worker. There was a rug, not overly expensive, clearly meant to take a coffee stain or two, in a soft tan color. There was art on the walls, a Degas print, "Miss La La at the Cirque Fernando", on the left and a Duchamp, "Portrait of Chess Players", on the right. Behind a minimal black desk stood two sculptures, though Arthur didn't recognize the work, and on the desk itself were what looked like mini figurines, made out of metal and wood and plastic, formed into shapes Arthur couldn't even begin to decipher. It was bland, like everything in DREAMSHARE seemed to be, but it looked like some semblance of personality was seeping through. A dandelion bursting though the sidewalk. 

There was also a man, slumped in one of the chairs in the 'visitors' side of the desk. Mr. Eames. Arthur decided not to speak to him yet and pretended to be distracted by the chairs. Well, half pretended. The wood-laminate was stained- or painted, can wood-laminate even be  _stained?_ \- a deep cherry red and the standard grey upholstery had been replaced with fabric that had Escher's "Sky and Water I" printed on it. Amazing.  

"Arthur Collins huh?" Mr. Eames spoke, set to ignore the fact that Arthur was ignoring him. 

"Yep." Arthur was not to be outdone. Silence descended. Five minutes passed with both men staring ahead not speaking to one another. 

"I'm late, sorry Eames sorry, that asshole Richardson caught me in the break room and just wouldn't stop talking- oh, you must be Arthur."

"Collins, yes." Arthur said. The young, well, not that young, but younger than Arthur anyway, woman who had whirled into the office obviously belonged to it. Petit smiled in response, handing Mr. Eames a mug without looking at him. Arthur smiled back, as was polite. Petit suddenly looked down at the mug in her hands and seemed embarrassed that she hadn't thought to bring Arthur any. Arthur didn't say anything. Arthur Collins wouldn't have noticed. Petit didn't bring it up. 

"So, Mr. Collins have you made a decision?" She said instead. 

"Yes, I'll be happy to take the assignment."

"Wonderful. I'm Ariadne, I'll be your handler on this mission. You've already met Mr. Eames so I guess we'll get started. The Mach-18 Server is stored at a facility in Belgium. There are a few structures nearby, one of them is a convention center that happens to be holding a week long conference starting in two weeks. the convention center is the only place where our equipment will be in range and you'll have a viable reason to stay in one place long enough to collect the data. I know this is short notice and that we're on a bit of a time crunch when it comes to collection, but it'll have to do. The facility itself is under constant surveillance and we're sure they keep an eye on the town as well. You'll check in with me every morning and night and if all goes well you'll be back home by that Sunday. Easy Peasy." 

Two weeks under. Arthur could do this. Arthur could do this in his sleep. 

"I've been given freedom with the ID's?" Eames spoke for the first time since Arthur had seen him. Arthur refused to think that he had a nice voice. 

"Yes, Eames, I promised didn't I?" Ariadne rolled her eyes. 

"Well, poppet, we all know how promises can be." Eames had on a rakish grin. Nice voice, English too, and-nope. Refusing to think about it. Eames got up from Ariadne's cool chair. "Come along Arthur, establishing a cover identity is not easy work." Eames left the office without looking back. Arthur felt mildly offended for the office. 

Ariadne gave Arthur an encouraging smile, "Since this is your first time don't be afraid to ask me any questions Arthur, or Eames. He can be snotty sometimes but he means well. Don't let him intimidate you." Arthur smiled again and felt mildly offended for himself.

As if Eames could intimidate him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about servers. Mach-18's aren't real (as far as I know) unless you're referring to the speed.  
> 'Emergency burners' refers to burner phones in case I wasn't clear enough (that's a problem I have I know)  
> According to Surnames.Behindthename.com (which gets its info from some magazine from 2005) the 7th most popular last name in France is Petit. Cool, right?  
> I know nothing about art, but I thought Ariadne might like those ones.  
> Just to be clear, this fic is Arthur/Eames even though Arthur currently wants nothing to do with Eames and seems so focused on Ariadne. Arthur just has an appreciation for beauty and Ariadne is beautiful, no arguments. 
> 
> All I have written for next chapter:  
> Arthur ended up following Eames to a small cafe across from DREAMSHARE's office building. 
> 
> I'm winging this, it's my first fic, and I've got finals this week. Please have mercy.


	3. In Which The Word Coffee Is Used More Than Any Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In defense of my absent minded update schedule, I'd like to say that I apparently only have the confidence to write this when I'm jazzed on caffeine or sleep deprived. And that my internet situation is a tad ridiculous.  
> But enough about me, onto the chapter.

Arthur ended up following Eames to a small cafe across from DREAMSHARE's office building. Eames didn't order anything, but he pulled a handful of sunflower seeds out of seemingly nowhere-or at least Arthur thought they were sunflower seeds, he couldn't quite catch a look at them in the moment between when they left Eames' hand and when they passed between his-Arthur ordered an Americano, with the hope that caffeine would distract him. 

"So,  _Arthur_ ," Eames said his name like he was rolling it around on his tongue, a small smile on his lips,  _goddammit_ , "since you've not done this before we'll take things slow. The first rule to creating a cover identity is making it as close to yourself as possible, easier to remember that way and it's more believable."

Eames paused, probably waiting for Arthur to ask questions. Instead Arthur nodded and said, "Makes sense."

There was a weird quirk to Eames' lips, "In which case, I'm gonna need to know more about you. Your personnel file didn't have much." Yes, that was one of the things that had been niggling at Arthur since their meeting with Ariadne (so for the last seven minutes). An undercover agent creating their own identity was strange enough, but for that agent to also be responsible for another agent's identity? Perhaps this sort of fishy procedure is what Interpol was concerned about. 

Placing Merryweather and his concerns in the back of his mind, Arthur fished around for an appropriate response from Collins. "Well, I haven't been here very long." Cue a blush and, "And, well, I guess there isn't much to tell? I'm kind of a workaholic." Arthur let a sheepish smile show through and looked nervously at the waiter as he set down Arthur's coffee. 

Eames softened at this, which, Arthur hadn't noticed he'd been tense in the first place? Shit, he can't be slipping, no, he's just tired,  _drink your coffee and pay more attention_. Arthur tuned back into the conversation. "-certainly something I can work with. How comfortable would you be with a homosexual relationship?"

Arthur choked on his coffee, wonderful. "Excuse me?"

"Faking one, of course."

"With you?" Eames laughed, loud and rumble-y. Arthur cringed, of course 'with him'. At the very least he was nailing being Collins, though at this point Arthur was unsure if it was worth the embarrassment.

"Yes, Arthur, with me." Eames wasn't laughing anymore, at least not aloud, but his smile said he wanted to. 

Arthur gathered himself, "Yeah, I mean, I think I manage that?" A hopeful expression and a small self-deprecating smile accompanied the question-statement. 

"Wonderful." Eames stood abruptly and his dismissive body language kept Arthur glued to his seat. "Now, I prefer to work by myself on these things, but I'll call you occasionally if I need clarification on anything," He paused, tilted his head a bit, freakin'  _winked_ at  _Arthur_ , and only then added, "Darling."

Arthur watched Eames walk away, and closed his eyes in dismay when he turned back and found his coffee had gone cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to be so short? It just felt like it should end there, I might post the next chapter soon though, maybe. No promises.  
> I headcannon Eames as an ex-smoker, hence the sunflower seeds.  
> Arthur drinks Americanos, don't fight me on this, it feels right.  
> (An Americano is made by pouring boiling water over an espresso, giving the drink a similar strength to an espresso but with more volume to allow for sips. It was invented by American soldiers stationed in Italy during WWII (Wikipedia says this is unsubstantiated, but I don't really care)). 
> 
> Sneak Peek:  
> Eames did call, in fact he called exactly fifteen times in the next three days.


	4. What Exactly Is An Espresso Emergency? And Other Questions Eames Asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two nights? I'm gonna hate myself for not sleeping tomorrow, but oh well. It's short, like all the rest.   
> Also, I've noticed that this story is pretty dialogue heavy, which is ironic because I hate writing dialogue. I'm thinking that as the story goes on this will change, but right now it just? doesn't feel right? It's not that Arthur isn't thinking, it's just ah contained.   
> Please tell me if my tenses are weird in this chapter, midnight-me's grammar cannot be relied on.   
> See End Notes for TW

Eames did call, in fact he called exactly fifteen times in the next three days. The first was at 2 a.m. 

With nothing else better to do, Arthur had gone back to his cubicle for the day. No one seemed to notice that he'd been absent all morning, aside from Mark, who looked at Arthur with such sadness you'd think he was staring in an ASPCA commercial, and Clark. Mark's secretary was a horrible gossip and occasionally upgraded to corporate espionage whenever something caught his fancy. Apparently Arthur had made that list. Joy. 

After that grueling afternoon, Arthur was somewhat less than pleased to be interrupted during his  _actual_ work. Fortunately, Eames started talking before Arthur could grumble out what was either a greeting or a threat. "What's your favorite type of wood, Arthur?"

The full two minutes of silence that followed indicated that that was all Eames had to say. Arthur sighed. "I don't know. Oak."

"Cheers, love." And with that he hung up. What the fuck. 

The calls that followed were the same. A rash of random questions, usually asked at highly inconvenient times. The fourth call had been about heights or some such that Arthur hadn't paid much attention to due to an espresso emergency. Hopefully his answer was Collins-appropriate. By far the most embarrassing had been the eleventh-Arthur had spent his entire lunch hour talking about his preferred suit fabrics. Once Arthur realized how much time had passed he stopped talking, but Eames had been the kind of quiet that let Arthur just _know_ he was smiling. Asshole. 

When Eames magically appeared at Arthur's cubicle at the end of the third day, Arthur was curious, but certainly not enough to ask Eames what he'd been up to. He didn't have to, mercifully. "I've got us all made up, and you've got the next eighteen days to relearn yourself." Eames spoke quietly, mindful of everyone around, but he punctuated the end of his sentence by dropping a folder onto Arthur's desk. Loudly. "We'll need to meet up each day, get more familiar with each other. I'll stop by around noon tomorrow." And with that he left. Actually, he might have said goodbye, but Arthur wasn't paying much attention. 

He had started looking through the folder Eames had completed on him and it was...thorough. Arthur Jameson is a furniture salesman, who's specialty is high-end pieces made of reclaimed wood. Pieces which were restored or custom made by his business partner and rumored lover: Eames. Normal, if a bit quirky. The rest of Jameson, however, reminded Arthur too much of, well, himself. It was hard to see, cover identities are supposed to be as close as possible to the truth, so of course some parts of the real Arthur would show through, but. Well. Six agencies with six different handlers, most of whom would never actually meet  _Arthur_ and therefore were constructing cover identities for a cover identity and Arthur ended up getting a little lost. 

Jameson had bits of Arthur, and bits of other people that Arthur had been. Little things that made them different enough for Arthur to separate himself from them. This meant that Eames had somehow seen past Collins, past all the layers-

_Maybe you've been compromised_

No, no need to panic just yet. If he'd been compromised why would Eames give him this clue? Anyway, Eames probably couldn't see through them, not with such little interaction- _he could just see what Arthur was letting slip through_. Fuck. 

Arthur rested his head on his desk. Deep breaths. Asking for an extraction from Cobb now would only expose Interpol's interest in DREAMSHARE, and the same went for anyone with a tighter grip on Arthur's chain.

He'd talk to Cobb anyway, ask for the soonest extraction possible. Until then he'd just have to keep it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peek/My reaction to the end of this chapter:   
> Oh boy.   
> I don't want this to come across like Eames has super powers? He's just good at his job. And poor Arthur is slipping.  
> I headcannon that Eames ends every phone call with "Cheers, love." Even the ones with his boss. Even when that one bookie called and threatened his mother.   
> Possible TW for Arthur having what could be read as a mild panic attack. Maybe, I don't know if that particular scene reads right.


End file.
